Cleansing the Grey Quarter
by Wynni
Summary: I've always felt they've left Ulfric's actual opinions on other races up for debate. Whatever race you are, he's sitting right next to you in the cart and treats you decently even before he knows you're Dragonborn. Ulfric is often seen as the 'uber Nord" so of course people are bound to make assumptions. What if a busybody decided to fix that?


Cleansing the Gray Quarter

Ulfric paused outside his chambers, silently drawing his belt knife. Someone was in his room. Anyone who fought for a livelihood did not last long without being aware of his environment. His room did not echo as it usually did when empty. He slowly opened the door to reveal a familiar Khajiit sitting cross legged on his private table, her tail curled and idly twitching.

"Telki, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Ulfric sheathed his belt knife. It would have been the basest sort of insult to keep a weapon drawn on one he trusted as much as the Dragonborn.

"Not pleasure this time, my jarl. We have a problem to address that is long overdue." Now Ulfric took the time to see the woebegone expression on her face. It bothered him no small amount. Whether from seeing such a usually happy face sad for once, or at why her moods should matter, he couldn't rightly say.

"Oh?" He pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. Patience was a virtue hardship had long taught him. He wouldn't have to wait long, Telki was, if nothing else, unutterably straightforward.

"Do you even know what is going on in your own city, or has the war so completely filled your head, you've let the pride of Skyrim go to the Void in a handbasket?" Now that tail was lashing, clearing the table of everything in reach: mug, plate, and wine bottles were all sent tumbling to the floor.

"Telki, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. What's wrong in my city?" Now he was wondering if his faith in Jorlief was misplaced. He always assured him everything was fine, that all matters were well in hand. He'd been quick enough to let him know about the murders, which Telki had been instrumental in sorting out. What else could be going on?

Magic to match the glower in her eye bloomed briefly in Telki's hand before enveloping the surprised jarl. "Ulfric, I'm about to show you the only way you'd understand."

"What is the meaning of this?" Ulfric growled through his teeth, startled when the voice wasn't his own. He stared at his now pale gray hands before pinning Telki with a dagger filled stare.

"You are about to have a very interesting night, my Jarl, as a Dunmer in your own city." Telki still hadn't left her perch. "If you call for guards, all they'll see is a hostile Dunmer threatening the jarl's precious Dragonborn. How do you think that'll pan out?"

"What's to stop me from throwing you in the dungeons myself when this illusion wears off?" The voice still threw him. It was familiar, but not his own.

"Absolutely nothing. What I'm betting on, praying for, actually, is that before this night is out, you'll understand why I did it, and at least forgive me." Even as furious as he was, the hurt tone bothered him. She was even eyeing him wistfully. A quick mental rundown of people important to Telki provided the answer.

"I look like Erandur now, don't I?" Ulfric was having a hard time keeping his anger. She'd basically turned him into the one person she loved more than breathing. It was a compliment he'd not forget soon.

"I know him well enough that illusion should hold even should I lose consciousness. Nobody will blink twice at me walking the Gray Quarter with my husband, and you'll finally see first hand what's been going on right under your nose. Frankly, if what you see doesn't infuriate you, I will wash my hands of you for good." That drew Ulfric up short. He knew she believed in the cause, knew that a free Skyrim made sense tactically even for the Empire, so whatever she meant to show him tonight must be dire.

"Well then, let's be off." Ulfric proffered his arm to her, just as he'd seen Erandur do a dozen times. He had to hide a smile when he heard her breath catch. Apparently, this illusion of hers cut both ways.

Ulfric stared at the Gray Quarter, aghast. How could his beloved city harbor such squalor? From the state of things, it seemed to have been going on for some time. There were no guards to be seen anywhere, and somewhere up ahead a drunken Nord voice was hurling slurs to make sailors blush. "What in Talos' name is that?"

"The closest thing the Grey Quarter gets to a town crier. He comes here every night, hurling insults all hours, just because nobody's willing to stop him. Come on, we need to get to New Gnisis. Your education is just getting started." Ulfric still maintained all his mass, as the spell was only illusion. It was a testament to how off balance he was by the Grey Quarter that he let her pull him along.

A few feet from the New Gnisis Telki pulled him aside, her voice low so that only his ears could hear her. "I need your solemn promise you will not lose your temper in here. It's just me, you, and several Dunmer filled with righteous fury at their mistreatment. They all think you're responsible for it. They. will. kill. you. If you reveal yourself. Do you understand me? Your illusion is your shield. Listen and learn tonight." Her worried tone was all the proof he needed she was in deadly earnest.

"By Talos, I promise I will not lose my temper, or reveal who I am in there. Will that suffice?" Her worried face searched his for a moment, looking for something. He idly wondered what. When he quirked an eyebrow at her, he heard that hitch again. Apparently, she'd found it. It was becoming amusing, even refreshing to catch the little madcap off guard. It allowed him to regain some equanimity after seeing the state of his beloved city. By Ysmirs' beard, how could Jorlief tell him everything was fine, when his city looked like this?

Snide laughter, unfamiliar alcohol, and smoke met them in a wave as they opened the door to the cornerclub. "Hey Telki! You and Erandur gonna play for us tonight?" Ulfric silently laughed to himself. He wondered if Telki had considered that possibility. He doubted she knew he had some bard training.

"We've had a rough ride getting here. Erandur's not feeling himself, but I can play one of my old tunes for you, if you'd like?" Nice glib reply, he was surprised at how easily she sidestepped the truth without lying. Now that had him wondering if she'd ever done the same to him.

"N'chow f'lah! Not that sappy "Dac'w" song again!" Ambarys playfully curled his lip at her, feigning distaste, and causing a lighthearted laugh from Telki, long familiar with the sarcastic wordplay of the Dunmer, but of course, she would have to play along.

"No sappier than "Elven flute," you old fetcher!" Telki affixed a wounded pout on her face, even though her eyes danced at Ambarys, making him laugh. It was a rare sound, and one much treasured for that rarity. She twirled one of the many escaped curls about her face, pretending to think hard. "I suppose I could do my version of 'Ragnar the Red'?"

"Any song with a beheading of a Nord is welcome in here!" Malthyr, almost forgotten in his corner, finally spoke up. There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. It reminded Ulfric of his own when speaking of the Thalmor. Which then begged the question: what in Oblivion has been happening in HIS city?

Telki pulled her lute out, tuned it, and broke into a rousing rendition of "Ragnar the Red", then came requests off and on all night. Someone eventually requested the "Dac'w" song, and her eyes never left Ulfric as she sang it. Of course someone had to comment on how forlorn she sounded singing it, which she had to brush off lightly.

He also heard the things she'd brought him here to hear. Amidst the many insults, he heard about bandit raids that never made it to his ears, wages that wouldn't feed a skeever, much less a man and his family, guards bullying them for not fighting for Skyrim, or just for being a filthy 'grayskin'. Halfway through the evening, he was not surprised to find finger shaped dents in his mug. He found himself wondering where all these assumptions about him came from.

It was no secret he had a deep abiding hatred for the Thalmor. As far as he knew, he wasn't alone in that. He heard more than a few of the Dunmer here roundly cursing them and their next five generations soundly to the depths of Cold Harbor, when they weren't wishing him and his next five generations to Cold Harbor. So, again, where did these assumptions come from? Was it because he wanted autonomy for Skyrim? Again, that also didn't seem to pan out, because who didn't want to be in charge of their own home? Morrowind, Hammerfell, he could even understand the Reachmen's passion for homerule. So, why then?

"You look like a mer with a lot on his mind." Ulfric's head shot up, only to meet a warning in Telki's eyes, reminding him the very important role he was playing.

"If I'd had any clue the amount of trouble I was saddling myself with that night I let you ride with us...I may have just waved you on by." Ulfric tossed back the mazte Telki had brought him. It was one of Erandur's favorites. It had a smoky flavor to it, and was strong enough to trail a pleasant burn down his throat. He might even order a case for the Palace. That should leave Ambarys speechless.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd rather have been rescued by the Thalmor, rather than Alduin trying to kill me." Ouch, touche. It still galled no end that the Thalmor thought of him as an 'asset'. When she'd shown him the dossier was one of the few times he'd actually lost control. When the red haze of fury had faded, he was treated to the lovely sight of a thoroughly trashed room, and both Galmar and Telki sitting on him.

"Besides, if you had waved me on by, there's no guarantee I wouldn't have sided with the Empire. Better someone win that can tolerate me, than someone that actively hates me." Ulfric found him reaching for her hand, needing to reassure that sad little voice.

"The only people I hate are the Thalmor." Was that really his voice, pleading for understanding? Ysmir help him.

"I know, riding with you that night is the only reason I'm giving you this opportunity to fix this gods awful mess." He'd never seen disproval in her eyes before, and damned if he never wanted to see it there again. It actually hurt, and slightly irked him that he wanted her approval. "Yet here we sit, in a tavern in your own city, and every blessed one of them believe you personally hate their guts. How are you going to fix that?"

Ulfric had been mulling that over half the night. A familiar voice wafted to them on the night air as the door opened and shut for another patron. Ulfric saw a matching evil grin on Telki's face. "Oh, Oh I think I like, no love where this is going!"

Ulfric waited patiently in the snow for the loudmouthed wastrel. "Outta my way, you gray skin freak!" It was obvious he was trying to snarl menacingly, but his drunken state turned it into an almost laughable slur.

"No." From the reaction, one would think Ulfric had hurled the worst of insults in a thu'um laced shout, instead of the softspoken manner of its actual delivery.

"If'n you don't move, I'll move you!" Rolf Stonefist lunged at the supposed Dunmer. Ulfric easily sidestepped the wild swing.

In that same soft, unpeturbed voice, he replied simply "My turn." Rolf became airborne. He landed flat of his back, unconscious. Ulfric eyed the suddenly ubiquitous guard. Where were they a moment ago when the loudmouth was making every Nord born look bad? Time for a little speech making.

"Is this what Nords have come to? Hurling insults at the weak? Are Ysgramor's heirs so pathetic, they must impune the weaker to make themselves feel powerful? Here, our oldest and most venerated city, you dare allow the Jewel of Skyrim to decay? Be covered in filth? WHERE IS YOUR DAMNED PRIDE?" Telki thought now might be a good time for the great reveal, and instead of an uppity Dunmer, the guards saw a very irate Ulfric staring them down. To a man, they hastily lowered their weapons.

Telki had to stifle laughter when she heard one of them whisper "We are so dead."

Ambarys could not believe what he was seeing. Multiple shots of sujamma were not making it more believable. There, in his cornerclub, sat Ulfric bloody Stormcloak, talking to Brunwulf bloody Freewinter and the Dragon bloody Born was leaning smugly on his counter, assuring him that he'd been there all night, drinking mazte and listening to every bloody thing said about him and his city. He needed another shot.

"You might want to slow that down, you know he's going to want to talk to you." Ambarys tried to stare her laughing face down, but was hard to do since there were apparently two of her.

"And why might that be? Mephala's bloomers, it'll be a miracle if there even IS a Gray Quarter by morning. Didn't you hear what all was said last night? We're the walking dead."

"Ambarys! I can't believe you'd think I'd do that to my friends!" The hurt on her face looked genuine, but if she cared, why'd she bring the fetcher down here in the first place? "The first friends I made in Skyrim were that man and his entourage. I have no idea where this idea he hates everything not Nord came from, but it was past time it was laid to rest. What do you think he's talking to Brunwulf about?"

"Which houses to burn down?" That earned him a swat on the shoulder and some comment about hopeless n'wah of a Dunmer.

"Ambarys, could you join us?" That whimper did not come from him. He was a proud Dunmer, and Dunmer never whimper when faced with impending doom. Thankfully, Telki, seeing the state he was in, solicitously escorted him over and blessedly made no comment about taking most of his weight getting there.

"Brunwulf tells me you're the closest thing to a leader the Dunmer have in the city. People bring you their problems?"

"Yes sir?" This was it; he was getting executed.

"Brunwulf has kindly accepted the position of Captain of the Guard. I trust if there are any more problems in the Gray Quarter, I will hear of them, and they will be corrected." Ambarys had to sit down, and Ulfric himself drew the chair out for him. He rather felt his expression probably was a more extreme version of the bemused look Brunwulf was wearing.

"Now, there's another matter I wished to discuss with you: Rolf Stonefist. Do you want him banished, or would you like him performing maintenance in the Gray Quarter for a year?"

Ambarys could only stare at Ulfric. It was a dream. He was swearing off sujamma forever. Sanguine himself was going to turn up laughing at him any time now; he just knew it. Since it was just beyond the unimaginable, he did the only sensible thing a Dunmer could do when everything he believed and thought was turned upside down. He passed out. On his way out, he swore he heard the Dragonborn yell at Ulfric "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

"I didn't, ask Brunwulf if you can't believe me!" Brunwulf, however, was too busy laughing at the whole mess. It was better to laugh than let it overwhelm him.

He finally collected himself enough to defend a jarl that was earning his respect. "He broke him by being nice to him, that's all."

"Mayhap the sujamma he was sucking down caught up to him." Telki wrinkled her delicate Khajiiti nose at the strong alcohol coming off Ambarys. "I'll get him upstairs and in bed. I think it would just kill him if either of you did it." She added the last as both men made to get up.

"And Ulfric, I rather feel that the Dunmer might just get a kick out of bossing Rolf around for a year. Though I think an overseer might be in order first few weeks. Someone that can remain impartial."

"So, are you up for the task?"

"Ulfric! You know I've got nine million things I have to get done if I'm to face Alduin. I would, but I simply can't afford the time."

"You meant it when you appointed me captain of the guard?" Brunwulf thought it might be time to step up and show Ulfric he'd made a good decision giving him the guard.

"Of course." Ulfric sat back and gave Brunwulf his full attention. Weaker men had wilted under that gaze, but Brunwulf had been through too many battles himself to fall prey.

"I have two in mind that could do the job easily. They've helped me with Dunmer concerns before, and they're Nords themselves. If you've no problem with me adding to the guard?"

"I'll leave it in your hands." Ulfric couldn't hide his satisfaction with Brunwulf's elegant solution.

"You know, this is going to change things around here. I wouldn't be surprised if, in a month or two, you start getting Dunmer recruits."

"They'll be welcome as any children of Skyrim should be. I'll make damn sure of it."

"I owe you an apology, Jarl Ulfric."

"No, it is I that owe you and these people an apology. I should have seen what was happening in my own city, and done something about it sooner. It took the Dragonborn dragging me down here to see it. How can I hope to call myself a High King, if my own city is crumbling?"

Woah, this was getting out of hand! Telki had to stop this. "Welcome to being human. You make mistakes, you learn from them, and you move on. Mara's mercy, Ulfric, did you really think you were infallible? Even so, you're at least willing to admit you made one, and you're making strides to correct it. That's more than any Imperial is capable of doing, from what I've seen.

"Now, enough wallowing, time to get you in bed. I swear, it must be the mazte. Erandur gets just as maudlin after a pint or two. C'mon, future high king, bedtime."

Ulfric grinned to himself as Telki kept a constant patter all the way to the Palace. He thought he might could count on one hand the number of times she stopped long enough to draw breath all the way there. He was pretty sure she was trying to distract him from his own self doubt. He had to admit, what she'd said at the cornerclub made sense. He would learn from his mistakes, and he would take better care of his city, not just leave it to updates from his stewards, or captains of the guard. He'd by damned get out and see for himself from time to time.

"Ulfric?"

He looked down into furrowed brow and shadowed eyes in a face meant for merriment. "Yes?"

"You're not giving up, please? You are a good jarl, and you're the best hope Skyrim has against the Thalmor." Her concern was palpable. For all her bravura, she was worried he'd give up. That, probably as much as anything else, helped firm his resolve to make Skyrim his own.

"You need to get some rest. You are taking my axe to Balgruuf tomorrow."

"Ulfric, why am I taking your axe to Balgruuf tomorrow?"

"He accepts my axe; he's one of us. He sends it back; we take Whiterun from him." If he thought it'd chase the worry from her eyes, he found himself mistaken.

"You know I'm thane there..."

"I'm hoping you'll help him see reason."


End file.
